The Rhesus factor
by Macharius
Summary: With the infection spreading quickly along the southern States, the Big Easy remains alone, a bastion of safe haven under siege. As the infection spreads, so do questions among its origin and who is "immune," how will the military deal with this threat.
1. Chapter 1

**A l4d story of two parts, here is the first. Originally a joint project between me an Pheno, he gave up on it so I stole it.**

Set in the Parish campaign, before the Shit hits the fan... hope it serves its purpose. The Rhesus factor element of it will come into play in the second half, so don't worry :-P

**The rhesus factor / Quarantine **

_Disclaimer; I don't own L4D_

"Stay in your designated groups once assigned, deadly force has been authorised!"

As if the sign posts didn't emphasis the point enough, soldiers hollered the command at them every twenty steps. Lilly glanced back behind her, the line of ragged refugees snaked back through Jackson square, down towards the waterfront where the ferries were still depositing more.

Each had a harrowing tale, each was a survivor, to make it this far, a week after society went to hell… A week after CEDA abandoned them.

CEDA… what a joke… 'steps are being taken to "minimize the risk of further spread in animal populations", "reduce the risk of human infections", and "further support pandemic planning and preparedness,' the news reporter in Savannah had said.

Green Flu, it was called, another global pandemic, just get your vaccine, wear face masks out doors and wash your hands , buildings with infected individuals were quarantined. CEDA thought that if they hid the problem from public view it would all disappear. The "Flu" spread southwards from the Mid-west.

Atlanta was the first major report, followed by Fairport and Newburg, people began to panic as quarantine failed. CEDA started evacs, from airports, malls, schools, train stations… anything accessible for those at risk. The infection only spread further.

International relations failed while the airports remained open, the border with Mexico was closed to stop the influx of American immigrants. The government cowered behind their precious CEDA and protocols, the EU began to worry and ceased trade with the US. Overseas evacuations ceased… The US was alone.

Airports closed, Evac centres were overrun, people turned on one another, rioting, looting, all civilisation in infected areas collapsed in on itself. Marshall law was declared, as was war against the infection.

The Army raised its middle finger to the flu, and tried to reinforce public confidence in their government. The death toll soared, everyone knew of the bombing of Newberg, and the deaths caused. The policy of 'Lock and Load' was curing the infection, one bullet at a time.

Miami went, horror stories told of the slaughter among the marinas. New Orleans became the centre of resistance against the Infection, refugees and survivors from all over the country flocked to the Big Easy.

CEDA disappeared, abandoning the task it was appointed to. CEDA had failed them, now the military was cleaning up CEDA's mess. That included dealing with the refugees and their evac centres. The mainland was lost, everyone knew it… The news reporters all said the same crap, "Remain calm, get to the nearest evacuation centre."

The government had already abandoned the mainland. A flotilla of naval and commercial vessels were anchored in the gulf of Mexico, evac choppers from New Orleans would take any refugees off shore and to the flotilla.

Lilly clenched her brothers hand tightly as they stood in the line, intimidating men in gasmasks and hazmat suits made their way down the line, the hazmat's carrying checklists and small medical kits. Lilly glanced at William, her brother, he was only ten and had been through so much… seen so much.

Mom and Dad had gotten them out of Ducatel before it all went to hell, all the kids were sent out of Ducatel before the gas shortages and the attacks. She ruffled his hair and he frowned, he hated when she treated him as a baby.

"Could you please face me m'am," came a muffled Alabaman accent from behind Lilly, the soldiers and their scientist had made it down the line quickly.

"Stay still and you'll be fine," the soldier continued, his face obscured behind his gas mask. Lilly did as she was instructed, glancing quickly at the gun slung over the man's shoulder.

The Hazmat scientist, a CEDA logo hastily scratched off the arm of the suit approached Lilly with a small flashlight. He shined it in Lilly's eyes quickly.

"Have you encountered any infected individuals?" He enquired while continuing his check.

"No…none," Lilly replied.

The man finished and scribbled something on his checklist before pulling a small white wristband out from his hip satchel and handed it to her.

"Put this on please m'am and enter the group you have now been assigned to," he stated gesturing toward the wristband. She smiled and slipped it on.

"Son could you please face me," the scientist asked William. The boy cowered behind his older sister.

"M'am, could you please step back," the soldier demanded, shoving her aside and grabbing William by the arm. He squealed and lashed out at the soldier trying to break the vice like grip.

"Hold him still!" The scientist yelled, causing refugees to exchange worried glances at the scuffle.

"He's not infected, he's fine," Lilly pleaded.

The scientist managed to shine the flashlight in William's eyes before the soldier dropped him.

"Should keep your dog on a tighter leash," growled the soldier. William cowered behind Lilly, tears flowing.

"Get it checked out," barked the other soldier at the scientist. The scientist consulted his chart before slowly looking up. He sighed and pulled a red wristband out of his satchel and handed it to Lilly.

"Give him that… we'll make sure you both get what's needed," he said with a weak smile, before moving down the line.

What did red mean? Was that good or bad? William didn't encounter any infected, did he? What happened with mom and dad before they got on the ferry?

"M'am! Step out of the line!" Ordered another soldier. Before she could comply he grabbed her and pushed her out of the line, towards a smaller group of people.

"Sis!" Wailed William, as the swell of bodies pushed him away from her.

"William… Oh god," she made a break from the line she was in before being pushed back in by a soldier.

"You got a death wish, deadly force is authorised! If you do that again, you will be shot," He warned.

William was being carried away out of sight. She could do nothing only watch, as she too was pushed forward towards a group of tents.

"Keep moving through, keep moving!"

Orders were continuously barked in their direction, along with the noise of choppers over head and refugees yelling… Lilly felt like screaming.

The refugees were being treated like sheep, herded along by their shepherds, the military. Behind them people in the red armband line hurled abuse at them, curses were thrown along with rocks and pebbles.

Lilly started crying… was she infected, is that why so much hatred was directed towards her.

"Board the first bus you see! Keep moving!"

Buses? Did that mean she was safe… but what of William? She glanced back toward the opposite line in the distance, growing smaller with each step. Was he infected?

She was pushed forward again, and climbed aboard her bus, and took a window seat. The added height of the bus showing more of a spectacle.

Body bags… hundreds of them were laid out on the ground, with men in hazmat suits inspecting them. More body bags were being carried in by soldiers and dumped on the ground before being burned.

The smoke plumes stained the sky like ink, trailing off into the distance. What was happening? Was all this horror necessary?

She pressed her hands against the glass as the bus departed, seeing a face peering out from one of the body bags, a face of pure rage, of animalistic anger… was this what the infection does to people?

The bus left the station, following others of its kind up to the overpass, flanked by military hum-vees, its destination the last evac station off the mainland.

*

William cried, looking around for a familiar face, for Lilly. People pushed against him, knocking him over and hurting him. Shouts and screams echoed around the unruly mob.

"Please remain calm!" Called out a soldier, "Move along in an orderly fashion!"

One of the people lunged at the soldier, "You son of a bitch, you're going to kill us!" The two men grappled before the soldier knocked the man back into the crowd.

"Keep moving or you will be shot!" The soldier bellowed, firing his gun into the air for emphasis.

People screamed and moaned in fear but kept moving as instructed. William was helped to his feet by a middle aged woman, who had tears streaming down her face.

"You poor thing, where's your family?" She enquired, wiping some dirt off his jacket.

"Dead, all dead," He had stopped crying. Lilly was long gone, he had to be strong, and prove he wasn't the baby his family all thought he was.

"Stay with me, I'll make sure you're okay," the woman continued, compassion on her weather beaten face. "You can call me Margaret."

The mob was herded forward into a large trailer, the CEDA logo proudly displayed on its side. About thirty of them were forced into the trailer. Again people began to scream, panic settling in.

"We can't breathe in here," gasped one man, banging on the door. No reply came.

"Oh god…it's a gas chamber!" Screamed another pointing at the ceiling.

"Fucking Nazi's!" People began to beat on the doors and the glass, when the nozzles on the ceilings began to hiss. It was some sort of shower, the liquid cascaded down drenching William's head. Margaret caught his hand.

"Its just a shower, we'll be okay,"

The liquid wasn't water. It tasted bitter, and was thick and oily. People began to cough and splutter, some falling to their knees, the chemicals affecting them. Margaret fell screaming, coughing out blood. She shuddered on the ground, and William turned away from her tearing up again.

Almost half the people in the room collapsed coughing and choking, when the opposite door of the trailer opened, and a team of hazmat's entered, ushering those still standing out.

William felt cold when he stepped out into the sunlight. Scaffolding blocked off most of the car park they had now entered, and William noticed a soldier on top of the scaffolding press a button and gesture towards another on the ground.

The hazmat team were pulling bodies out of the trailer and placing them in body bags, stamped with the CEDA logo.

"Keep moving!" Ushered the soldiers again.

"Screw you fascists! You're just going to kill us anyway!"

"Move along! Deadly force is authorised!"

"Fuck you," protested the man. The soldier shot him twice in the chest.

"Keep moving!"

The group was ushered through the remains of a bus station before being led into a maintenance room below the highway. A sign beside the door proudly proclaimed that they were leaving the safe zone. Groans and moans accompanied the people into the small room.

On the overpass above, William saw a group of buses pass by, from the station probably, all heading toward safety. He envied them, but hoped Lilly was aboard.

Out of a group of thirty, only about thirteen remained, and the soldiers pushed them into the room before closing the door made of steel; they couldn't open it from the inside. Three soldiers were waiting for them in the room, all featureless behind their gasmasks.

"The door behind me leads to a quarantine area. You are all infected, some of you may be carriers, some just dormant for now. You can't harm humanity from here, and no harm can come to you. If you comply. Any resistance will be met with deadly force."

No one moved or said anything, William started to shake, he rolled up the sleeve of his jacket to see that his wound was weeping again. The wound he got when mom attacked him, back in Ducatel. Dad stopped her and pulled her back, but she bit him too… Mr Chapner from across the road had stopped them both and got him to the ferry.

"Sir…I need help," he weakly pleaded with the nearest soldier, showing his wound.

The soldier raised his rifle quickly and clicked the safety off.

"Lord forgive me."

And pulled the trigger.


	2. Chapter 2

**The Rhesus factor / Quarantine, part 2.**

"**The hell is happening in there?"**

**The two soldiers stood watching the carnage in the Quarantine zone from the safety of the steel fence.**

**Screams and smoke were carried through the air toward them, along with the occasional report of a machine gun or crack of a rifle. A shriek came from nearby causing them both to grip their weapons tightly.**

"**Check it out," whispered the other man, gesturing toward the nearest street. Someone or something was coming their way. They both raised their rifles, an archaic m16 and an M4 carbine respectively. A young woman, coated in weeping wounds and tattered clothing rushed toward the barricade, making worried glances back the way she came.**

"**Help me, please… you've got to let us out," She pleaded, on the verge of hysterics, her eyes wide with fright.**

"**Ma'am, you have to step away from the fence," **

"**No, you don't understand…they're in here with us… they're in here, you have to get us out!" She wailed, thrashing against the fence breaking the skin on her fingers.**

"**Ma'am step back now!"**

**The woman took a step backwards and took another look over her shoulder. Something was in the smoke behind her watching.**

"**Please… help me," **

**Then she leapt at the fence, desperately scaling it. The two soldiers fired a burst each, causing the woman to go limp. She clawed at the fence as she died, blood staining the white metal rust red.**

"**I thought Iraq was as bad as it could get, civilians man," The first soldier turned on his heel and pulled up his gasmask to vomit. **

"**This isn't right man, this ain't right at all," the second muttered. He prodded the woman's corpse with the barrel of his rifle, knocking it off the fence onto the ground with a wet thud. **

"**Shit… This feels wrong," he stated slinging the rifle and patting down his ACU, some blood had sprayed onto his collar.**

"**What was she so worked up about, I thought they were just dormant man," **

**He buddy shook his head and heaved again, the stench of burning flesh carrying over to them from the overpass.**

"**Better call it in," **

**The first soldier wiped his mouth and took several deep breaths before grabbing his radio. **

"**Papa Gator, this is over watch seven," **

**Static hissed for several moments before Papa Gator answered.**

"**Go ahead over watch,"**

**The soldier took another look around the decaying streets.**

"**There's something big going down in the Quarantine, we're getting screams and reports of small arms fire from here,"**

"**Affirmative, other teams have reported it in, carry on, a team is being dispatched to deal with,"**

**The soldier glanced at his buddy, then at the woman's bloodied corpse.**

"**Requesting permission to accompany foray?"**

**Papa gator was silent for several long moments.**

"**Copy that, make your way to Bienville for pickup,"**

**The soldier nodded to his friend who shook his head.**

"**Rodger, we're Oscar-mike,"**

**The soldier ended the transmission and glanced over at his friend and uttered a 'what?'**

"**You're going to get us both fucking killed," he hissed back.**

"**Whatever Dwayne, this just feels wrong, its like Auschwitz man, its wrong. These are people that we locked in there with the zombies,"**

**Dwayne slumped down against the fence and wriggled his gasmask off. **

"**Precisely why we should be out here, on the safe side of the fence stopping the zombies from getting out."**

"**What about her, was she a zombie?"**

**Dwayne shrugged.**

"**She could have been, point is, they're all infected, they're gonna die anyway," he stated bluntly. **

"**You're probably right," agreed the first soldier.**

"**But I know you're not going to rest until we check it out, and you're not gonna get off my back unless I go too," Dwayne eventually sighed.**

"**We owe it to her Dwayne,"**

"**We owe shit Brandon."**

**Brandon smirked and placed his gasmask back on, taking one last look beyond the fence into the Quarantine, gun fire continued, buildings burned, it seemed the infection had finally struck in force.**

"**Come on, we gotta get to Bienville park," Brandon stated, lending Dwayne a helpful hand up. Dwayne refused and strode off himself, swearing under his breath. Brandon followed, contemplating about what how the hell he was going to survive this mission.**

**The two soldiers walked along the perimeter of the quarantine, sharp shooters from the 10th**** mountain watching them with eagle eyes from the overpass. Brandon banged on the steel door to the safe zone, and the pair were admitted.**

**Bienville was the centre of the screening, but also the easiest place for the humvee's to reach. Sure enough, former CEDA workers were doing their thing, screening people in the chemical showers, those immediately infected being killed, those dormant being exposed and placed in the quarantine. The smell of the people was putrid.**

"**Why do we put 'em in there, in the quarantine, they're all infected," Dwayne eventually piped up, after viewing a group of refugees tugged along by soldiers. Brandon stayed quiet.**

_**Why do we put them in the quarantine? Its easier to shoot them all, sick as it sounds.**_

"**Dunno… its more humane I guess, gives them hope," Brandon finally said, although they both knew his reason was complete utter bullshit. They both hushed and moved on, Bienville was only a few blocks ahead.**

*****

**Commanding officer Tom Friel sat back in his small chair, digesting the words that the scientist had just said.**

"**You're telling me, that those people we've locked in, aren't infected?" He finally piped up.**

**The scientist shrugged.**

"**They carry the infection in their blood, but for all other reasons they're immune, they can't spread the infection without biting someone. We believe its due to the Rhesus factor, a chemical in the bloodstream that desides whether you're possitive or negative, but without proper research..." **

**Friel stood up and placed his hands behind his back. His "Command centre," a filthy tent, was buzzing with activity, evacuation reports made their way through the tent. Each officer was exhausted, they've been working non-stop. **

"**What does this have to do with me, with the US fucking army?" Friel finally spat.**

"**They must be evacuated Sir,"**

**Friel slowly turned to face the scientist.**

"**And why Doctor? Why should I put the lives of my men in jeopardy to rescue some damn zombies, we have to hold New Orleans while we still can!"**

**The scientist shook his head.**

"**Look, I'm sorry about what will happen to your men, but without 'immunes' we can't combat the infection properly! We can manufacture a goddamned cure!"**

"**Then why am I only hearing about this now!"**

**The scientist took a step back, surprised at Friel's sudden outburst.**

"**We've only managed to research the Infection briefly, we had to abandon most of our equipment in Savannah!"**

**Friel closed his eyes. Savannah was the only evac centre remaining in the south besides the Big Easy. **

"**New Orleans and the safety of these people is my primary concern."**

**The scientist paused for a moment.**

"**I'm afraid New Orleans is already lost." **

"**Tell me doctor, how can you possibly know that? My men were pulled back from the middle east, I command a battalion of the 75****th**** Army Rangers, we are the baddest mother fuckers anyone could mess with, and if the infected want this city, then we're gonna make them pay for every inch they take."**

"**Don't you understand? This isn't like Fallujah or Baghdad! You weren't at Fairfield or Savannah, I was! You don't understand how quickly this can spread during open conflict! It's already started in the quarantine… you've locked the people who can save us in with the monsters we've being fighting!"**

**Friel slammed a fist down on the table, spilling his cup of cold coffee.**

"**So what do I do then?"**

"**Evacuate as many as you can still, evacuate the immunes, kill the rest," the scientist remarked coldly.**

**Before Friel could answer, the portable radio beside him garbled.**

"**Papa gator, this is over watch seven."**

**Friel looked up at the scientist while grabbing the receiver.**

"**You better be right about this doctor."**

**He then put the receiver to his mouth.**

"**Go ahead Over watch,"**

*****


	3. Chapter 3

The Rhesus Factor / Quarantine part III

"Lets go, hustle up!"

Soldiers rushed about the ragged lines of refugees, trying to perform their inhuman task at an impossible speed. Orders came through, screenings had to be speeded up.

Dwayne and Brandon slogged their way through this chaotic scene of so-called military precision. People grappled with them, swore and threw small projectiles. It was pure madness.

"You're worse then CEDA!"

More curses and shouts rained down upon them. The two ignored as best they could and cast sympathetic glances toward the soldiers and Riot Officers trying to maintain some sort of order.

After a painfully slow advance through the park they reached the staging area. Several humvee's were parked in the street along with a Bradley's armoured vehicle.

Dwayne whistled, he seemed to have a love affair with machines, in particular the big ones, and the Bradley's, while not the most badass thing, was his firm favourite.

Brandon mopped some sweat of his brow and noticed that the streets were being closed off. Riot officers kept the crowds of refugees under control as groups of soldiers erected barricades tipped with razor wire.

_Was the infection already here, outside the quarantine?_

"Come on Brandon, get a move on," Hollered Dwayne.

He bounded down the steps after his buddy and approached the tent where the task force was assembling. The Lieutenant there was tired looking, and dirty like the rest of them, and he had that haunted look that all the men had who patrolled the outer perimeter.

"As I was saying… we enter the Quarantine zone at the east gate, we secure an LZ for the Pave lows and start evacing anyone still alive. I won't bullshit you, things are incredibly hot in there,"

He cleared his throat.

"We have confirmed reports of infected,"

The gathered soldiers murmured and began to argue among one another. It was Dwayne who voiced the groups concerns though.

"Why are we going in there then?"

The LT shook his head.

"I don't know, we don't question orders private, we execute 'em,"

"Fucking horseshit," Whimpered one of the soldiers.

"Once we're in…watch your zones of fire. Do not fire on uninfected individuals, only shoot if you have a clear shot," The lieutenant continued, his face growing increasingly sour.

"We are the best of the best, its us this falls to, are you with me rangers?"

One by one the men answered with a "Hooah." The LT gave them all a sad smile.

"Rangers lead the way, lets mount up. Allen, Matthews, you're up front with me. Casey, Havner, Randal you're following, Perry, Hamilton, Stone and Hill, you're the rear guard."

The men all rushed to their respective transports, all apprehension replaced with a longing for glory.

"You two," the Lieutenant gestured toward Dwayne and Brandon.

"Find a empty space in a vehicle where you can,"

With a "Hoorah" they were on their way. Brandon sat in the lead humvee, and craned his neck to find Dwayne. Sure enough he was riding on the side of "Rolling Thunder," the Bradley's.

The engine roared to life and the vehicle lurched forward. It halted long enough for a barricade to be moved aside before rolling on again.

"Papa Gator, this is Spearhead Charlie, we're Oscar Mike, will we have air support, over?" The lieutenant spoke into his radio.

Brandon couldn't hear the reply despite his best efforts, but the Lieutenants face informed him well enough. He threw down the receiver and sighed.

"Command just tell us to go 'f' our selves?" Enquired the driver, Allen.

"Seems that way corporal," Replied the LT.

"This whole operation is beyond FUBAR," Came the voice of Matthew's.

"Stow it Matthews, and someone get on that 50." Barked the lieutenant. Matthew's hopped up and took control of the gun.

It was unnervingly quiet inside the humvee. Brandon couldn't take it.

"Where did you guys serve before all this?" He eventually piped up.

"Fire base Phoenix, Afghanistan for a while, waiting for my tour to run out, when the shit hit the fan, you LT?" Yelled Allen above the sound of the engine.

"This is my first combat op,"

Matthews laughter filled the cabin. He Glanced down from the 50. His grimy face split with a massive grin.

"Looks like we got a war-virgin in charge of us,"

"I said stow it Matthews!"

"What, you afraid of a killer like me, afraid that I can pull the trigger and you can't?" Matthews replied, still in hysterics.

"Matthews, shut the fuck up!" Allen hollered. The LT was silent and looked away. The silence returned, deafening despite the engines best efforts.

"I was in the assault on Fallujah, I was heading back for my second tour when we were called back," Brandon whispered.

"No shit! I heard that was a shit storm there!" Matthews called. Brandon shut his eyes against the carnage of that battle; house to house, hand to hand combat. It was the bloodiest and most inhumane thing he'd seen , until now.

The Humvee bounced along the road, rattling the occupants about. Ahead the looming fence of the Quarantine zone came into view, and the East Gate, if it could be called that. A barricade hinged to swing open to allow trucks to dump larger amounts of 'carriers.'

"Slow down," the lieutenant ordered. Allen pulled over while the LT jumped out of the cabin and made his way over to the barricade. He conversed briefly with the officer in charge of it before waving the convoy forward.

As the approached the barricade was opened. Gun fire erupted cutting down groups of people who tried to rush out.

"Cease fire!" Screamed the lieutenant.

The men at the gate looked uneasy and continued to push open the heavy steel gate. The convoy rumbled forward and the lieutenant climbed back in. "Rolling Thunder" was the last through, and the gate snapped shut behind them. Corpses crushed under wheel as the convoy proceeded.

"Where we going in here?" Allen whispered, keeping his eyes peeled to the road. The Lieutenant fumbled with a map, scanning it carefully. It was a tourists map of New Orleans with military information scribbled on in red pen.

"Two blocks east of here is a park, we're gonna clear it and call the Pave low's. Set up a defensive perimeter and evac,"

Matthews groaned but the Lieutenant let it pass. The convoy snaked its way slowly through the streets choked with dead. Weapon reports tore through the air along with screams and groans. Occasionally an emaciated looking human or stray dog would pass by on the street, staring wearily at the vehicles trundling by.

"Its like Somalia man," Whispered Matthews as he craned the 50. Around to scan the rooftops. Brandon shrugged, it was as bad as they expected… A ghost town choked with the dead.

"Head's up, fire fight ahead," Hissed Allen.

Strobes of light and weapons fire broke the eerie silence of the dead city. Ahead sure enough, someone was shooting something.

"How the fuck did they get firearms?" Brandon exclaimed.

"We had reports of other refugees helping people in here, but we didn't expect them to send weapons in," The lieutenant stated, staring wide eyed at the conflict ahead.

A huge blast lit up the scene ahead. Allen skidded to a halt as dirt and rubble rained down and the air was full of a dirty mist.

"That sounded like a thumper… they got fucking RPG's too?" Yelled Matthews. Behind the convoy ground to a halt. The lieutenant waved his arm outside the window and consulted his map.

"That was the park, fuck."

He grabbed the receiver of the humvee's radio. "We got weapon reports up here, stay frosty, only fire if fired on, Oscar Mike,"

Various agreements came over the radio, and Allen moved on again.

"Watch those alley's Matthews," Brandon urged.

"Roger that,"

The fire fight had died down, occasional staccato bursts broke the silence in the distance. More people clad in rags made their way along the street and began to follow the convoy. They tried to speak, only moans escaped their worn out bodies.

Brandon felt sick, and the incessant moans wouldn't leave his ears. He wanted to shut it all out, to scream, but he couldn't. The convoy rolled on, paying no attention to the refugees.

"Shit, something big did go down here," Allen noticed as they entered the remains of the park. Craters, rubble and pieces of foliage was scattered around the entire location.

"Where the bodies…"

No one answered his question, but they all felt it in their hearts. The humvee came to a halt and they all dismounted. The rest of the convoy followed suit, and before long the men were preparing defensive positions.

The civilians continued to follow moaning up the streets. The lieutenant mopped some sweat of his brow and reached for the radio again.

"Papa Gator, spearhead Charlie, we're set for Evac, over."

After several long moments of static Papa gator acknowledged. The lieutenant clapped his hands.

"Alright lets go, Perry, Hamilton, begin to screen these people. Matthew's, Allen, stay with them and add security, the rest of you, fan out, check these buildings, we don't want any hotshot taking pot-shots at us, Hoorah?"

"Hoorah,"

Brandon stuck with Dwayne and they made their way to the nearest house almost all of the others were burnt out shells. Brandon shuddered, charred bodies were visible in said burnt out houses.

They stacked up against the wall, Dwayne nodded and then kicked in the door. A woman on the far side screamed as she was thrown to the ground.

"Shit, are you okay ma'm?"

She didn't reply, she sat on the ground and shuddered, weeping slightly.

"We're gonna get you out, helicopters are coming to rescue you," Brandon ushered, she slowly looked at him, her hair hung in knots over her face, thick with dirt and grime.

"You're the ones who locked us in here!"

And with a shriek she ran off toward a hole blown in the wall. Dwayne made after her, Brandon checked what she was after writing on the wall.

**CEDA abandoned us, the military fenced up, We're ****not**** sick!**

Brandon felt his heart break at the anguish they'd caused. He hated himself and his uniform for it. He shook his head and was about to follow Dwayne when he heard wailing. Another woman was crying.

He looked around, she was nearby, upstairs maybe. She continued to cry, a sad mournful wail, like a banshee or a witch. He made his way up the stairs slowly, the stairs creaking under his weight, zips and magazines jingling as they hit against one another.

He could hear his own heartbeat above her cry, above all else.

"Hello?" He called, but received no answer, only more crying.

"It's okay, I'm not going to hurt you,"

He reached the top of the stairs; it was pitch black upstairs, and he turned on the flashlight held on the bayonet lug of his M16 rifle. Then he saw her, crouched in a corner and clad in tattered rags.

He took a step back in horror when he saw her hands, or what remained of them; she was one of them…the infected. He cursed his heart for beating so loudly. She stopped crying and began to growl.

With a quiet yelp he flicked the light off and made his way back slowly down the stairs. Trying to be as quiet as possible, wincing with every creak the floorboards made. He had made it halfway when his radio squawked loudly.

"Brandon? Get your ass back here, the choppers are landing!"

The figure above screamed and made her way down the stairs with a shriek. Brandon ran as fast as he could, heart in his mouth, he had made it out the door when his rifle's sling had got trapped on a loose nail. He desperately tried to tug it off before the woman found him.

He was too late. He screamed as she brought her serrated talons down upon him.

*

Dwayne had lost sight of both the woman and Brandon. She had gone on ahead, and he didn't really want to follow her into zombie-land. Brandon… he had been right behind him. Hadn't he?

A trio of pave-lows buzzed overhead toward the park. Dwayne decided he had enough of this, he scaled the wooden fence in the house's back yard and jogged up the street toward the park. Brandon should of seen them. Just to be sure, Dwayne grabbed his radio.

"Brandon? Get your ass back here, the choppers are landing!"

Static answered him. Dwayne shrugged and ran toward the landing choppers. The lieutenant was having a heated argument with the pilot of one.

"… do you mean you can't transport us all…Fuck that, you're bringing us back too!"

The pilot and the lieutenant continued their argument while refugees clambered up the ramps of the helicopters. Dwayne wondered mindlessly through the throngs of people before Matthews tackled him to the ground.

"Stay down! Someone's fucking shooting at us!"

Dwayne glanced around and noticed several in the crowd crumpling too. Whoever was shooting obviously didn't want anyone to get evacuated. A shot hissed by his head and he raised his rifle searching for a target.

One of the choppers dusted off, its weight allowance peaked. The lieutenant was yelling something, Dwayne couldn't make it out above the noise, of choppers, people screaming and gunfire. Then in the distance came a horrific blood curling howl, like a pack of wild animals. The refugees abandoned any sense of order, panic reigned and people, children and adults alike were trampled under foot.

Across the radio Dwayne heard the yell with impossible clarity.

"Whiskey Delta's!"

His heart raced, blood drained from his face. He could see them in the distance, sprinting, foaming at the mouth. He raised his rifle and shuddered as the recoil travelled up his arm. The infected bodies were decimated by the heavy calibre rounds, blood gushed, limbs disintegrated and arteries burst open. Yet still they came.

"Only target the infected!" Bawled the Lieutenant.

"Which ones are infected? I can't fucking see?" Came Allen's outburst.

"Fuck this!" Screamed Perry in desperation.

"Abandon target selection, kill em all!" Matthews cried above the sounds of slaughter.

It was slaughter, blood ran in rivers around them as the refugees fell and the infected reached them. Dwayne flicked out his combat knife in time to slash the first infected across the neck. Arteriole blood sprayed across his ACU and he spat in disgust.

Perry was using his rifle as a club, smashing skulls of the infected. Matthews was firing disciplined bursts into the infected. Another chopper dusted off, leaving crowds of uninfected screaming in its wake.

"Fall back! Fall back!" Screamed the LT desperately. Dwayne looked over his shoulder toward the last helicopter, its ramp was raising. He cursed and threw his rifle at the infected screaming toward him. It leapt toward him and spun him round. It hissed and sank broken dirty teeth into his neck.

He bellowed in agony and stabbed it through the eye. He left the knife embedded and limped toward the chopper. Hill pulled him in, Stone wasn't so lucky, he was grabbed by the masses of infected pooling around the chopper.

"Fuck! Get us out of here, go!" Matthews bellowed at the pilot. The ramp remained partially open as the helicopter heaved itself off the ground. Dwayne vomited on the deck of the chopper and glanced back.

Brandon didn't make it.

Below slaughter continued as the infected attacked the refugees, screams and bloodthirsty roars filled the air.

"Shit, hang on!" Yelped the pilot. Dwayne noticed his worry too late.

"RPG!" Someone managed to scream before the tail of the helicopter was blown clean off in a blinding flash. Dwayne fell backwards on Allen, and felt the contents of his stomach empty again.

"This is pave-low Zulu niner, we're going down, repeat we are going down,"

Dwayne managed to whisper his mothers name before the asphalt soared up to meet the stricken bird.


End file.
